The Founder
by Rachemiester
Summary: The story of the first Slytherin, and what makes him tick, as they say. Chapter 8 up, R&R, as always.
1. Prolouge

The Boy

The Boy

A/N- A story about a founder. This is a _short_ prolog. Hope ya like it, R&R.

Disclaimer- O boy! If you think I'm JK or Head of Warner Brothers….

Every village has one. The strange one, the one you stay away from. The child that you got punished for speaking too, or even just questioning about them. Sometimes it was scandal that did it- a child of an unwed mother. Sometimes predigest- a little girl with a bad leg. But why the children of Sourfolk avoided Salazar was a completely different matter.

Perhaps it was the fact that the marshy area surrounding the village was a scary frightening place- a perfect breeding ground for tales if witches and the devil. Maybe it was because Salazar was the son of an- _interesting _landlord. Or, maybe, that strange light often flickered from the high towers of the Slytherin family castle.

What ever the reason was, Salazar was avoided at all costs. 


	2. The Wand

A/n I'm sorry if I screw the Fens up- or any part of British Medieval culture. I'm not British, and I've never been there.

Disclaimer- Not mine- theirs.

The fiery red sun rose merrily, the mists rising slowly from the marshes surrounding the village. Inside the gray castle that was the pinnacle of the village, Lady Slytherin was as red as the sun.

"Deus! This baby is coming out!" she screamed. She grabbed her husband by the collar of his tunic and pulled him down. "I _told_ you to get a witch midwife!" she hissed into his ear. 

The unfortunate, young muggle midwife, was red and sweating from the heat of the room. "The babe's out!" she cried. Lady Slytherin gave a small cheer, and collapsed back onto her bed. The midwife looked the baby over. "And it's a beautiful boy!" She cleaned up the baby, and handed it to the stressed parents.

Lady Slytherin exploded as soon as the midwife left. "BY MERLIN'S BEARD, ADRIAN!" she yelled. "I said, 'Get a _witch_ midwife!' A WITCH! And you brought me a MUGGLE FOOL!"

Adrian groaned internally. "There was _no _witch within 5 miles! And poor little Salazar's head was almost out. What was I-" He stopped as he noticed his wife staring at him. "Accalia? What's wrong?"

"Where did you get the name Salazar from?"

" I- I don't know. It just popped into my head."

"Salazar Slytherin- It sounds nice." She looked down at the baby her hands, and smiled. "Salazar."

A holiday was declared the next day. The villagers feasted and danced until stars speckled the sky, and the moon was above. The wonderful food seemed too good to be true. Huge chickens and ducks, wonderfully brown, exotic fruits from the far reaches of the known world, and delicious cakes were set up on a long table outside. Many huge kegs of beer where lined up again it. A group of villagers performed a marvelous play, about witches, werewolves, and other denizens of the marshes, and a minstrel's music filled the air.

After the villagers fed and happy, Sir and Lady Slytherin went out on the lowest balcony. Grinning, the Sir proclaimed, "Welcome our son, and heir, Salazar Slytherin!"

The villagers cheered (to drunk to realize they were cheering their strange lord's sun) as Salazar was raised for all to see. The villagers saw a healthy, beautiful baby boy, one like any other. But looks can be deceiving…

Adrian and Accalia wasted no time in telling Salazar about their family- and the unbreakable rule- _never_ tell the villagers _anything_ about the family, and _never_ do any magic in front of them.

The family made a special journey to London one sunny day when Salazar was seven, and, by the King's law, old enough to practice wand magic.

The family climbed down from the carriage, stiff from the journey. They made their way slowly through the rubbish on the street, to a small pub, with a weathered wooden sign calling it "The Owl's Feather".

They walked not into a pub, but into a small plaza, filled with witches and wizards bargaining over prices, shopping, and greeting each other. A sign over head said Diagon Alley.

Salazar stared, transfixed at the stores. A potion's shop, a bookstore, an apothecary and- a wand shop. 

He gripped his parents' hands tightly as they walked into the small store- Ollivendar's. It was dusty- with small boxes lining the walls and covering most of the floor. Very little light shone through the yellow and wavy windows. Magic seemed to pour from the ceilings and walls into every thread of Salazar's being.

A man, bent and twisted with age, stepped slowly into to view. " Ah. Adrian Slytherin. - 13 ½ inches, Maple, bicorn horn. Good for hexes, is it not?" he said in a thin, wispy voice.

Adrian nodded quickly and shortly. 

"And Accalia, 13 ½ inches, Maple, Chichevache hair. Almost the same as your husband's. How funny to see you two married." He said this without any change in emotions at all, in the same whispery voice as before."

Accalia spoke up. "This is our son, Salazar. We, and the king, believe he is old enough for his first wand," she said, daring him to disagree.

The man hesitated, and frowned. "How old is he?"

"Seven."

He nodded. "I disagree with the king's law, and normally, that is too young, but I believe that Salazar here will become a very powerful wizard." He then did something very subtle, but very odd. He flinched, and whispered something very quietly, that only he and Salazar heard- "Mordsmordre" He looked around the shop. "And a powerful wizard needs a powerful wand." He walked over, and pulled out a wand. "Try this one- Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches."

Salazar looked at him. "No, not that one."

The man spun around. "But you haven't even tried it."

Salazar continued. "That is not my wand. It is 3 boxes to the left and 5 down. I know it is- it has been waiting for me, and it is calling for me. Please, let me try it."

Mr. Ollivander replaced the box, and pulled out the one that Salazar had asked for. He slowly removed it.

"14 ½ inches, yew, basilisk skin." He suddenly looked very strange. He walked over to Salazar, and bent down to look at him. "I want you to know something, boy. I have hoped never to sell this wand. I wish it to rot slowly, to break, to be caught in a fire. I have never wanted it to be in the hand of any witch or wizard- knowing the evil that flows freely through out it. You see, one of my dear friends died, trying to get the skin. You cannot imaging how I felt when I found him, lying in a cave, with a giant snake slayed by his side, and a piece of the skin clutched in his hand.

"This wand is a cursed one, I believe. My friend's death is in this wand. And yew is the wood of death. Do you still think it's yours?" he said with malice.

Salazar continued staring. "It is mine. I know it is."

The man suddenly looked very mad. "Here." he spat out bitterly. "Take the wand of death, if you so desire it."

Salazar slowly took the wand, and waved it. A powerful wind blew through the room. The walls, lined with the wands, began to shake, as wand after wand flew out of their boxes, and landed in a pile at Salazar's feet. Nearly a quarter of the wands were at his feet by the time they finished flying off the walls. Green and silver sparks filled the air, and slowly came together to form a skull with a snake entwined in it. Then, the wand that the man had wanted him to try, flew through the air, and quickly tore the skull apart. 

"It is mine."

* * *

Adrian and Accalia quickly went to the parlor the moment they got home, while Salazar ran up to his room. Accalia collapsed on a poofy armchair, while Adrian paced the room.

After a few minutes, Accalia spoke. "Is it what we fear?" she whispered. "Is the seer right?"

Adrian exploded. "Of course she is!" he bellowed, making the walls shudder.

"Should we- I mean, I know we're not suppose to until he's 15- but under the circumstances- I mean, it's happening so _quickly-" _

Adrian sighed. "We shall have to tell her."

"But-"

"No buts. She told us that if any two of them happen within a day, that we should come to her. And all but one happened within the span of five minutes."

Accalia closed her eyes, and whispered, "I wish it not to be so." 

A/n- I am evil, aren't I? Well, any way, because I don't want my hard work to go unnoticed, Adrian means "The evil one", Accalia is the foster mother of Remus and Romulus, and the wand that Mr. Ollivander wanted Salazar to try is Harry's. biggrin 


	3. The Wizard

A/n- I appolgize sincerely. You see, I often don't get time to type on the computer, with out my parents hovering over me, or my brother kicking me off. But, summer is here now, and I can write, write, write!

Disclaimer- Why do I have to write this thing? I mean- ::gets dragged away by Warner Brother thugs:: All characters are based on the books by J. K. Rowling, and are the sole property of her and Warner Brothers. Happy now?

In the center of the marsh lived an oracle. No one knew, or could even hazard a guess of her age. She was master of the court magicians of Egypt during Moses's time, remembered the invention of flying carpets, and spoke fondly of Merlin as a young boy.

The odd thing about her, besides her age, was how _young_ she looked. She looked hardly a day over twenty, with long, auburn hair and shiny blue eyes. Any one close enough to feel her aura could tell she was a powerful witch. Her name was Persephone Dumbledore, but she was called in awe _La vieille fille_, the old girl

.Her tent was violently purple , and smelt of dust older then the earth itself. Rich carpets covered the damp earth, and magical artifacts adorned the walls. 

She sat, drinking tea in her tent when Adrian and Accalia came. "Come in," she called happily to the couple.

"I told you not to see me until Salazar was fifteen," she said accusingly, looking into her tea cup. "He is only seven."

Accalia boldly spoke up. "You also told us to come to you when two of the signs happened in a day. And four happened within the span of two minutes."

The seer gave a small gasp, and promptly broke her tea cup. She crossed herself, called out to Allah, and quickly said the kaddish. Regaining her poise, she asked, "Which signs were they?"

"The skull of green and silver destroyed by the phoenix, the wand of death, and a quarter of the wands in Ollivander's shop landing at his feet."

"And the fourth?"

Accalia hesitated. "We…did not exactly hear the fourth sign. Salazar told us that he heard Mr. Ollivander mutter 'Mordsmorde', but we did not."

"The wand of death?"

Adrian gulped. "His wand, so named by Mr. Ollivander."

"And the skull and phoenix?"

"When he waved his wand, green and silver sparks filled the air, and formed a skull. Then, a wand with phoenix feather in it destroyed it."

The oracle bit her lip and spoke. "You must raise Salazar as normally as possible. Maybe by doing that, the fifth sign will never happen."

__

Five years later…

The day dawned clear and bright, completely unaware of the storm clouds that were swiftly gathering in the distance.

Salazar snoared gently as his governess, Olga, came bursting into his room, her arms full with laundry.

Olga was a short, plump witch. Her gray and red hair was piled underneath her witch's hat in a messy bun. She had a perfectly cheery disposition- maybe a bit _too_ cheery. 

"Rise and shine!" she bellowed, placing her laundry down with a _thud!_ on a green cushioned ebony chair. "It's a beautiful morning, and there you are, wasting it away in bed! You only have one life, and it's best to make the best of it!"

She hurried around the room, opening the thin shutters that covered the narrow windows. Golden sunlight poured into the room in narrow slits, causing Salazar to roll over and groan.

"Can't I sleep a bit longer? Please?"

"No! Come on then! You have your lesson with Professor Damathic this morning- he's number- what, five?"

"No- sixth." Salazar counted on his fingers. "Madam Nosy-eyes, Madam Twitch, Professor Vulture, Madam Sinister, and Professor Lack-wit."

"You always have the fondest nicknames for your Professors. Your parents went off to see the oracle again."

"What else is new?"

"The fact that your breakfast is getting cold."

As Salazar pulled on his green robes and silver rope, he looked at them in disgust. "Green and silver, green and silver. Just once I'd like to wear red and gold."

Olga suddenly looked serious. "You cannot."

"Why not?"

"Those are the colors of the Griffindor family, and if Artos found out, he'd be mad."

"So?"

Olga sighed. Salazar was the only person who could test her patience. "He's an expert in transfiguration and he'll turn us all into flies and squash us. Now get up and get dressed."

White bunnies hopped across field. Hedgehogs scampered around the village. Children ran around joyfully, laughing and singing. And Salazar was stuck inside the stuffy parlor, the windows all tightly closed.

"Mr. Slytherin, will you at least _look_ like you are paying attention?"

Salazar stared at his Professer's over large nose, pale skin and bald hair. _I think I shall call him Professor Buzzard, _he thought lazily, and drawled out loud, "Why?"

Professor Damathic's eyes flashed, as he turned around to shuffle his notes on why potion making is essential. "_Le petit, laid, garcon…"_ he muttered.

"The peteet laid mars on? What does that mean?"

The Professor spun around. "It's _Le petit laid garcon. _It's french, and never you mind what it means. Now, can you go back to transfigurating your book, _sil-vous plait?_"

"See voo play? What does that mean?"

Professor Snape slapped his forehead. "_Sil-vous plait!_ It's _French_ and it means _please!_"

"Why don't you try speaking English all the time, so we won't have this problem?"

"Because, I just spent a year their, and I'm used to speaking it!!" he yelled, with more than a hint of exasperation in his voice.

There was a pause. Salazar then spoke. "Why does it take you a quarter of an hour to teach me how to do this?" With that, he waved his wand, and his book changed into a scroll.

Snape gaped, and quickly regained his poise. "_Eh bien,_ you might be able to do _that_, but you must learn the theory, so you can figure out how to do this!" He then swiftly turned into a big, black crow, and back.

"What use is that?" asked Salazar. 'It's _much_ more practical to know how to do _this._" He waved his wand, and the scroll on his desk turned into a beautiful cake. He waved it again, and his quill turned into a fork. He grinned, and took a big bite. "Would you like a piece?"

A vexing quarter of an hour later, in which Professor Snape tried to explain the valors of herbology, the Professer stomped out of the parlor.

"_C'est impossible!"_ he cried. "I have taught Godric Gryffindor, Mortimor Under-wood, and Johnathan Baker - all gifted, all a bit eccentric, but not as bad as _that_! I do not deserve to be treated like this!"

Olga, looking startled, stammered out, "The mistress and master won't be back for a while. Perhaps you would like some tea and cake and we can talk it over?'

"The last thing I want is cake!" he screamed, as he stormed up the stairs. Olga heard the sounds of packing and French curses. 

The professor stomped downstairs, his trunk floating in front of him. It landed with a _bang!_ on the floor in front of him. "You can inform the mistress and master that I QUIT!" he shouted, before Apparating away.

An irked Olga had told Salazar off, and sent him out side to play, after reminding him of the family rule. He didn't mind, as it was his intention all along, to go outside into the beautiful weather. And besides, the village boys never talked to him, or even acknowledged his existence.

He strolled over to the edge of the swamp, looking for his friends. They were there often, sunning on the large stones. He grinned as he spotted Benjamin on one of the larger rocks.

"Hello, Ben."

The pacific head of the green garden snake looked up. "Hello, Salazar. How are you today?"

"I'm good. I just made another professor leave. And how are you?"

Salazar listened happily as Ben told of his little snake troubles, so different from Salazar's human ones.

As Ben was telling Salazar of his youngest son's misadventures, a shadow fell above them.

Salazar looked up, confused. It was Matthew Potter, a rather sickly looking boy. He was thin, with messy, jet black hair. His skin was white, and pale.

He had a village-wide reputation as the meanest kid in town. It was said that he had once stolen a horn from a wandering, blind musician, and blowed into is as loud as he could into the Old widow Lakewood's cow's ear, so it would never give milk again.

"Hello?" said Salazar uncertainly. He never really talked to children of his own age, and was unsure of what to do about this strange development.

"I want you to teach me," said Matt quickly, his voice barely a whisper.

"What?"

"To do…_it_," he said, knowingly. "What you and your maid and your mother and father do."

"What are you talking about?" Salazar replied, nervously.

"I don't wanna say it….it could get us in trouble."

"Write it, then."

"I can't…." Matt looked around, and put his mouth to Salazar's ear. "_Magic._"

Salazar jumped back with surprise. "I don't…I mean, we don't….we're just like you, we're not…_witches._"

Matt smiled. "Your mother and Olga are…but you and your dad aren't- you're warlocks."

Salazar simply gaped.

Matt continued. "We got a new farmhand, see, Mr. Giffydoor, or somethin' like that. An' we caught him doin' it. Me and Mum said that if he told us the name of someone who could teach us how to do it, we wouldn't tell anyone. And he said that your family could teach us a potion or two, an' that we need to be born with magic to do spells like he did, but not to do potions."

"Your farm hand," said Salazar, still suspicious. "Was his name Artos Gryffindor?"

"Not Artos. Godric, I think." Matt scrunched up his forehead. "But I think Artos's his dad."

That blew away any suspicion in Salazar's mind. Olga had talked of Artos Gryffindor just this morning. "Come with me, to my house. Then we can talk," he said to Matt. 

Salazar slowly opened the door to the parlor, and stuck his head in. He turned to face Matt. 

"It's clear," he whispered, and he carefully opened the door. He and Matt quickly rushed through, and closed the door.

"What's with all the quiet?" Matt asked. "I thought that you said that it would be safe here."

"I want to tell everyone about you first, so that they won't curse you, when they see you."

"Oh."

A few minutes passed, before Matt spoke. 

"Can I see your wand?"

Salazar bit his lip. He wasn't sure that he wanted to show his wand to this strange boy. He could very well ask what was in it, and then he'd have to tell the whole tale of the store. Of course, he _could_ make something up, but he didn't like to lie.

"Okay," he said slowly, and he pulled out his wand.

"Wow..." Matt gasped. "It's like I could almost be magic myself…I can feel it from over here. Can I hold it?"

Salazar slowly gave the wand to Matt, who eager grabbed it.

"Deus! Can you teach me a spell?"

"I don't think so…like Godric said, you have to be magic. I know, say _Lumos _while thinking _really_ strongly that you want the tip to light up."

Matt looked at the wand tip fiercely, and said the word.

It lit.

Matt looked from the wand to Salazar. "Does this mean I'm magic?"

Salazar looked at both in awe. "Maybe…Wait, we could go ask the witch that lives in the marsh."

"The marsh?" Matt said with visible alarm in his eyes. "Don't evil spirits live there?"  
"No. Just some Grindylows."

"What are those?"  
Salazar shook his head. "Never mind." He then went over to the window, and opened it wide, climbed out, and Matt followed.

An hour later, they were at the purple tent of Persephone Dumbledore. They had taken longer then usual, because Salazar had to jump out of sight several times, as his parents were making there way back to the castle, and they would certainly explode _something_ if they saw Matt.

Salazar pulled the flap open, and walked in, coughing a little from the scent of incense.

"Hello Salazar!" she said cheerfully. "And who's this?"

Matt had walked in. "Matt Potter, ma'am."

"I think he's a wizard," Salazar said, excitedly. "He came to me, when I was talking to Ben, and he asked if I could teach him how to make some potions. And, then, at my house, he tried to use my wand, and _it worked."_

Persephone's eyes grew big, as she turned to Matt. "Listen. Have you ever exhibited any signs of magic before? Any at all?"

"No."

"Any magic relatives? I don't care how distant."

"No…my farmhand is, that's how I found out about Salazar."

"And who is your farmhand?"

"Godric Gryffindor, ma'am."

Persephone whitened. "May the lord help us."

She lit a fire, threw in some dust, and yelled into it, "Godric Gryffindor!"

In the blink of an eye, a large man appeared next to the fire. He was tall, and seemed to be all red- he had red hair, and freckles, and he was wearing a red tunic.

He looked towards Persephone. "Oh, hello. Haven't seen you since Christmas. Oh, by-the by, did you enjoy the feast?"

"Not now Godric. What the hell were you thinking?"

"What do you mean?"

"Wait, first I should explain something to you, Salazar. You, Godric, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff are mentioned in a prophecy, made by, I might add, by a very reliable source. According to it, if something goes wrong, we could all be destroyed." She turned back to Godric. "_Why_?"

"I didn't think just going near him would do anything…"

She looked at Salazar. "One of the powers mentioned in the prophesy was that when either you and Godric, or Helda and Rowena got close enough, and the magic found a host that suited it's fancy, you could turn muggles into wizards. And it seems like that has just happened."

"What's so bad about that?" Salazar said.

"The muggles don't have anyone to teach them! And that's not to mention witch-hunts! The poor souls would be burned to a crisp!"

"I've heard of muggle-borns before," said Godric. 

"Yes, but they're pretty rare, and normally turn up around Ireland, and India- surplus magic. Britain hasn't had one since…oh, probably around year of our lord 100"

Matt finally spoke up. "What's a muggle, any way?"

"You, dear- someone non-magic."

"Oh…sorry."

Persephone shook her head. "It's not _your_ fault. If this lughead had just stayed where he was, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Persephone?"

"Yes, Salazar?"

"What do they do with the muggle borns in Ireland and India?"

"They have schools they send them to, to teach them how to use there magic."

A wicked looking grin came across Godric's face. "Why don't we start one?" 

Persephone gave him an equally evil look. "Because, I don't intend anything like this to happen again, because _you_ are going back to Gryffindor manor _now!_" she yelled.

"But it's not there anymore!" Godric yelled back.

"_What?_"

"It. Is. Not. There. Anymore."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say it involved some beer, a unicorn, and a hell of a lot of leprechauns."

Matt suddenly spoke. "Excuse me, miss?"

"Just call me Persephone."

"Well, why should you stop people like me from being magic? I mean, if the magic thinks we should be, then why not?"

Persphone simply blinked. Then, mouth hanging open like a fish, she sputtered out a few words. "Because…it…just…I…er…There's no school…"

"So if Godric and you _make_ a school, then you can have people like me."

"That's circular logic."

"No it's not," Godric piped up.

"Quiet, you," she snapped. "OK. You two, go back home," she said, pointing at Matt and Salazar, "No, on second thought, Matt, you stay here, I need to teach you some things. And Godric, you go back to work. Tell Matt's mother were he is, and I don't want to wake up tomorrow with a bunch of villagers with pitchforks and torches outside my tent, do it _inconspicuously_. I'm going to have to think about this some."


	4. The Discovery

A/n- With me returning from 4 weeks at camp, and FF.net back online, it's time for a new chapter!

The sky darkened overhead, and thunder rumbled far off in the distance like tired old man, as Salazar hurried through the swamp towards home.

__

A prophesy? About him? Did his parents know? Why had they never told him? Was that why they had gone to see Persephone so much,? What else did it say about him, was the rest of it coming true, why him_?_

These questions and thousands and others like them flew around his mind, colliding, and consolidating, forming wild theories and even more questions.

Did muggles ever have trouble like this? Why were they so frightened of magic, why were they so frightened of his parents?

Lightening flashed in the distance. Wind blew through the trees making sounds like so many whispers.

__

Maybe it really is_ evil, maybe it really _is_ bad, maybe his soul _was_ the devils, why couldn't he be _normal_?_

The first raindrop fell as Salazar rushed into the village. He started to run.

By the time he reached the castle, it was a torrential downpour. He yelled the password to the door from twenty feet away, and ran even faster to and through it.

Once in side, not even pausing for a breath, he ran up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door loudly.

He collapsed on the bed, and buried his face into the pillow. But he didn't cry. Salazar never cried.

A few minutes later, her heard footsteps and a soft knock on the door. 

"Salazar?" It was his mother. "Salazar, we need to talk."

"Fine."

The door opened.

Accila Slytherin was not a maternal figure. Her features were severe- dark eyes, a sharp nose, thin lips, and black hair pulled back tightly- and she seemed more like a powerful matriarch then a mother.

She did her best, however, to look kindly, and stepped into the room.

"We can't just keep on hiring and losing professors like this," she said quite bluntly.

Salazar sat up, turned to face her, and narrowed his own black eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what? About the new professor?"

"No. About the prophesy."

Accila's eyes widened, as she backed out of the room. "Adrian?" she called. "Adrian- he knows!"

Salazar listened to his mother's footsteps go down the stairs, and fell back onto his bed.

He then fell asleep.

Salazar woke up suddenly. He could here a distant booming sound.

__

Just thunder, he thought, and dozed off.

He was jolted awake again, by a loud scream and banging noises. He could also here distant voices and foot steps from downstairs.

He climbed out of bed, and slowly walked towards the stairs. He peeked out carefully over top of the railing of the balcony and gasped.

There were about ten man from the village downstairs. One held him mother, who was screaming, and trying desperately to escape. Two held his father, who was also struggling. Another was holding Olga like a sack of wheat, and yet another was snapping their wands.

The village priest was also there (holding a cross and a bible), along with the butcher, the miller, and the weaver. 

As Salazar's eyes fell on the tenth man, he nearly cried out.

It was Matt's father.

He was yelling out orders to the other men. "The boy! Where's the boy?" He turned towards the butcher, miller, and weaver. "You got to the left, you go to the right, you go downstairs, and I'll check up stairs."

As Mr. Potter climbed the stairs, Salazar told his feet over and over to move, but they didn't listen. His hand gripped his wand tightly.

Mr. Potter spotted him. "You!" he yelled, and lunged towards him.

"_Crucio_!" shouted Salazar, and ran towards his room, Mr. Potter screaming in agony.

He rushed over to the window, and waved his wand. A long rope appeared, and he started to climb down. 

He thanked God silently for the fact that his parents had never allowed him to have a tower room, as the fierce wind blew, and the rain pounded him.

At last, he reached the ground, and was about to run for the swamp, but something stopped him. He ran around to the front of the house, and hid behind a tree.

The door slammed open, and the ten men walked out (Mr. Potter looking ill), with his mother, father and Olga thrown over their shoulders.

"Potter!" yelled the Baker over the gale. "What should we do with 'em?"

"My son babbled something about freezing charms, so we can't burn them."

A large lump formed in Salazar's throat.

"What about the swamp?"

"Let's go!"

Salazar, silently cursing for leaving both his regular and invisible cloak inside, followed them to the edge of the swamp.

The priest held up his bible and spoke.

"Oh Lord. If these be but three innocent Christens, may they be saved by thy merciful hand. If they be Satan's helpers, let them perish, and burn from where they came. Amen."

Salazar shut his eyes as the men said "Amen."

He then heard three splashes, and all was silent.

He sat, in the mud, in the rain, for who knows how long. 

He then got up and ran.

15 minutes later, he was in Persephone's tent, wrapped in a blanket besides a fire, holding a cup of something she called "Hot choco".

"Now, Salazar, what happened?"

Slowly, in a monotone, he told the whole story.

Her reaction was completely surprising. Rather then saying "Oh dear!" or "You poor thing.", as one might suspect, she went over to the fire, and started to chant.

"_O! Spirits of the past!_

I call on you at last!

Bring back what I need!  
Of this I plead!"

Then, the fire rose higher, and then went out. Persephone reached into the ashes, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. She relit the fire, and sat next to Salazar.

"Listen," was all she said, and she began to read.

"_Dearest,_

Another odd dream last night. I saw four persons, standing in a hall- two women, two men. 

The two women were clothed similarly. One wore bronze and blue, the other yellow and black. The men dressed alike to- Gold and red, and green and silver.

I then saw two children walk up to them- one to the men, one to the women. 

Suddenly, they were filled with a glowing light, and wands appeared in their hands.

Then, for some reason, I focused on the green and silver man. Then, quiet quickly, I saw six things- A skull colored like him, which was destroyed by a phoenix, a wand called death, many wands in a shop falling to his feet, a word- mordsmorde, and then a man and two women being killed. Then, I saw the man, and he seemed cold, and terrible. He made war against the world.

Enough of that, though. I need not to fill you with disturbing news. By the way, how's the city? Have you told them to watch out for Romans and to stay close to the western wall, like I told you to?

Love,

Joe

Persephone folded the letter back up. "That's that. One of the greatest profits of all time. All of his predictions- came to him in dreams, and then written down in letters to his bloody girlfriend- have come true."

"And that one was about me?"

"Yes. And it's coming true. The first four signs were shown to you at Ollivander's. And the last one, just now."

Salazar looked down into his mug. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because, prophesies are funny things. When a person is told of one about him, it will almost certainly come true."

"So why did you tell me?"

Persephone sighed. "Because…I knew it was going to happen. I knew I couldn't stop it."

Silence hung heavily in the air. At last she spoke again. "I'm sorry."

And still, Salazar did not cry.

A/n. I apologize. That chapter was depressing. Murders, bad poetry, bad weather- the thing about Persephone having hot choco was the funniest part in it. And we still haven't met Rowena and Helga. Oy.


	5. The Plan

A/n- At last! At long last! A new chapter.

Salazar stayed with Persephone for seven years. She had let him stay with her on one condition- she could place a memory charm on him, to make him forget the events of that horrible day and night. She said that maybe, one day she could lift it. Salazar had reluctantly agreed. 

He spent those seven years perfecting and learning how to control the magic that flowed so freely through him and others. He was never satisfied with what he had learned. His transfigurations always had to be flawless, he had to be able to control his charms so they did exactly what he wanted them to do, his potions had to be exact. He studied the history of magic, and Persephone made sure he knew exactly what happened when a dark witch or wizard gained control. He never learned a curse or how to make a poison from Persephone herself. 

But there was one thing that Persephone could not change- his ability to talk to snakes. They were always around- they seemed to flock to him. And he talked to them, more then he talked to her.

And then, when Salazar was 19, they traveled to a remote part of the country, in a huge and lonely moor.

***

Salazar looked outside the tent. He had only been in the moor for a day, and he already decided that he hated it. It was just miles and miles of grass. Tall, ugly grass. 

He went back inside the tent. "Why did we have to come here?" he said, grumpily.

"We're going to visit Godric," said Persephone, who was sitting cross-legged on the carpet. "And you broke my concentration."

"Oh, sorry," said Salazar, a bit distracted. The name Godric was ringing a faint a distant bell in the farthest reach of his mind.

"We might as well go now," Persephone said, getting up. "I'm out of the 'zone'." She grabbed her wand. "Let's go."

The two disapperated.

***

Salazar looked up at huge stone building that was before him, as Persephone apparated with a **pop** next to him. 

"Here, put this on," she said, reaching into a pocket, and pulling out a bracelet. It had a silvery band, and an emerald jewel.

She pulled out her wand again. "_Tele," _she muttered. "Godric, put it on."

Salazar put on the bracelet. "I don't like it. I don't know why, but I don't like this bracelet."

She pocketed the wand. "Come on," she said to Salazar. "This is important."

They walked through the front gate, and into the court yard. Salazar felt the jewel do a sort of twitch.

"Persephone-" he started to say.

"It'll do that," she interrupted.

The two walked in silence through the front door, which was opened by two guards, who bowed respectfully to them. 

Inside was a small entrance hall, with two doors. Through one, Salazar could see a kitchen, and through the other a bed room with a familiar looking man, and two women sitting in it.

Persephone walked into the room, dragging Salazar with her.

"Godric, you old bean, we're here!" she said as she barged in. "Hello Rowena, hello Helga, glad you're here.

"Who are you calling old?" the man, who Salazar assumed was Godric, said. He looked to be about 25, and he seemed to be all red. Red hair, and a face splattered with freckles. He even wore a red shirt and hose underneath his tunic, which was red also, with a large golden lion embroidered on it.

Something echoed in the back of Salazar's mind. His own voice- _Green and silver, green and silver. Just once I'd like to wear red and gold._ And Olga's- _You cannot. Those are the Gryffindor colors. _He couldn't remember what this was from.

"You," Persephone said, with out missing a beat. "Salazar, this is Rowena-,"

She pointed to one of the ladies. Rowena looked somewhat exotic- she had long black hair, and dark black hair. She was wearing a dark blue shrift and kirtle, but she managed to carry a regal air about her. She looked to be about the same age as Godric.

"- and that's Helga." Helga seemed very different then Rowena. Her hair was dirty blond, and curly, and her eyes were of the dullest colour of brown. She was closer to Salazar's age then to Godric's. She wore a peasant's dress, and looked a bit out of place. 

"All right then," she said, suddenly looking a bit sad. "Good-bye, Salazar."

"What?" he said, startled.

"I have to leave you now."

"Why?"

"The time has come, the walrus said."

"What?"

Persephone shook her head. "You wouldn't understand. But at any rate, the time has come. I've done what I've had to do, and it's time for me to go someplace- or rather, some_time_ else."

"What?" Salazar said, stammering, "I-I don't understand, what do you mean?" 

"Good-bye, dear. Be good." And with that, she was gone.

Salazar turned to the others. "What just happened?"

"I'm not sure," said Helga, slapping her hand on Salazar's shoulder. "I don't think we'll ever know. We'll just have to be content knowing that that poor old bird stopped by long enough to show an interest."

"Then, do you know why I'm here?"

"To build a school!" said Godric, sounding triumphant, and smiling at Salazar. "Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"You know!" said Godric. "The whole deal with our powers, and the bracelets?"  
Salazar looked around, and realized that everyone was wearing a bracket. All of them were like his, but each had a different jewel- Godric's a ruby, Rowena's a sapphire, and Helga's a black pearl.

"I still don't understand."

"Well, let's start at the beginning." said Godric. "Do you remember me?"

Again, something flickered in Salazar's mind. "_You, Godric, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Helga Hufflepuff are mentioned in a prophecy…According to it, if something goes wrong, we could all be destroyed"_

"I don't know," Salazar said, worriedly. "I think I should."

Something else came back to him. _"One of the powers mentioned in the prophesy was that when either you and Godric, or Helga and Rowena got close enough, and the magic found a host that suited it's fancy, you could turn muggles into wizards"_

"I know this sounds odd…but can we turn muggles into wizards?" said Salazar.

"Yes!" said all three, together,

"And we're going to make a school," said Rowena.

"To teach both people that are born magic, and the ones that our magic chooses," said Godric.

"To educate all of Britain, Scotland, and Ireland," said Helga.

Salazar stared at them. "I…I see," he said slowly. "And why are we wearing these bracelets?"

"To stop our magic from…well, I guess the best way to put it is 'escaping'," said Rowena. "Look at the jewel, closer."

Salazar put his wrist at eye level, and studied the emerald. He saw that there was a small snake etched lightly into the stone.

"You see the etching?" asked Rowena.

"Yes…"

"By the by, what is it?"

"A snake. Why do you ask?"

"Apparently, our etchings say something about us. Mine's a raven, Helga's a badger, and Godric's a lion."

"What do you mean 'apparently'?" interrupted Helga. "Your carving makes since- Ravenclaw's your last name. And so does Godric's- the lion is his family crest. I guess mine does too- you three all have the high and mighty animals. I just have-" she blushed. "I just have a lowly, mean little badger."

"Oh, be quiet," said Godric, dismissing her ideas with a wave of his hand. "I doubt that's what Persephone meant. And I haven't finished my investigation into your parents are."

"What do you mean?" said Salazar. 

"Godric has this thing that he goes on about- that my parents are simply under a very powerful memory charm. And that we should all be sitting in a castle somewhere."

"Thing?" said Godric, sounding insulted. "I haven't a thing! I have a sound and conclusive theory! All I need now if for Rowena to give me those books on memory charms."

"I told you, I'm not getting into that," said Rowena. 

"Are you…" said Salazar. "Are you a peasant?"

"Yes," said Helga, briskly. "But my magic's as good as any witch or wizard."

"Good?" said Godric. "You, m'dear, are better then any witch or wizard in the world, except for the three people standing before you. And the fourth that just left."

"So," said Salazar, sensing that the debate might go on all night, and that he wouldn't get an answer until it was over. "Tell me more about the bracelet."

"Well," said Rowena. "As I said before, it harnesses your magic. You can, however do spells with your wand with it on. But, you can turn muggles magic if you take it off, or tap the jewel right where the etching is, with you wand."

"I see," Salazar said. "I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

"None of us do, Salazar," said Rowena, gently.

"Cheer up, old pal!" said Godric, slapping his hand on his shoulder, in the same manner as Helga did. "We've got an adventure ahead!" He pulled out a sword for a sheaf hanging on a wall nearby, and waved it around as he continued. "A castle to build! A gigantic serpent of the deep to slay!"

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to kill the squid," said Helga.

" Ah yes. But still! A country full of people who fear and hate us to scour through for allies and students! And then, once we're done with all that, we must keep the beasts of fire, air, earth and water at bay as we try to educate young sorcerers! Come!" he yelled, waving his sword even broader. "Let us make haste and leave!" He then went out the door. 

The other three simply stared, and ran over to the window to watch him run through the front gate.

He turned to look at then, and shouted. "Don't just stand there, gawking! Come on!"

"Men," muttered Helga, and shook her head. "I think the rest of us were planing on packing. And maybe making some more detailed plans," she called, leaning out the window. "And we're not going by foot either, I don't think. We might apparate. Or use horses."

Even from the window, Salazar could see him blush. "Ah…yes. Indeed!" he called up. "I agree! I'll be back up, in a second!" He jogged towards the gate, and out of sight.

The next few days were a blur of packing and planning. And then, the fateful day came, when all four apparated away to their new home.

Salazar looked around at their surroundings. They were atop a cliff, with a deep lake at the bottom. Everything, besides the lake and the plateau they were on was deep green forest. 

The view was awe-inspiring to Salazar. After only seeing swamps and moors, he was spell bound to the beauty of his surroundings.

"Right then!" said Helga, after a few moments. Let's get to work!"


	6. The Beginning

_Ten years later… _

Salazar was feeling old now, though he was only twenty-nine years old. He felt as though he had done as many things in these past ten years as whole villages did in three generations.

He looked back at the castle he was now walking away from. He had helped built that, in little more then five years. Would the ones who looked upon it generations later realized that only four people, -and two of them _women-_ made that in five years?

Of course, the magic had helped. Godric had spent most of his time in the quarry; magically cutting out the bricks needed to build the school. Helga had mostly been in charge of placing the bricks and Rowena spelling them. He had mostly done the odd jobs, alternating his time helping all three of them. 

He looked out onto the lake, that was formally Godric's quarry, and before that, a lake. Salazar had drained it, after Godric had gone exploring and had found that the bottom was rock. Salazar had revived it, and had even put in a small squid that a trader from India had sold, promising him that it was nearly immortal, and would grow huge and monstrous, yet it would be friendly. 

The past five years had been spent roaming the country, looking for students, and creating them.

Salazar shuddered at the remembrance of finding the suitable host for magic, and giving them the gift. It had made him feel drained, wasted, and unalive for several days after wards. It was if someone had sucked all the humors* out of his body.

There was also something else that he had felt when turning, as they called it, the muggles. Something deep inside within him. A gnawing feeling of greed and avarice, a little voice saying over and over, this isn't right, this is wrong, this all belongs to you, and you alone, you should keep it to yourself. He had dismissed those feeling afterwards, when he saw the delight in the ex-muggle's eyes when they felt the power within them.

Of course, not all had gone so easily. They had been chased out of countless villages by muggles with torches and pitchforks, and the priests throwing buckets of holy water at them. They went to Helga's old village, and she was recognized, but Rowena and put a memory charm on the whole village afterwards- or had tried to. The local priest snuck up behind her, and caught her. They tried to burn her, but the other three had come to her aid, and they escaped.

Salazar was feeling old for all of these reasons, and for something else. The four had stayed up most of last night, preparing for the opening of the school. Helga had mentioned, in passing, that most muggles could only hope to live to forty. And here they were, pulling children out of the villages for seven years. That might not seem like so much to them, for they could expect to live to ninety, or even one hundred. But for the turnlings, if they returned to were they were, and lived the way they did, it would be a fifth of their life.

He had thought about that for the rest of the night, and now this morning. He was now twenty-eight. He had almost lived a third of his life. He could almost feel morality's jaws at his throat. He wanted to live on and on, until the end of time. To see the school grow, to see the children learn. 

"Salazar!" 

He broke from his thoughts, to see Helga running in a very unladylike way down the hill, her yellow and black robes streaming behind her.

"What?" he said.

Helga stopped running halfway down the hill. " The sorting ceremony will be an hour! Godric wants us all in the hall now!"

Salazar grinned, ran up the hill, and embraced her. Helga laughed joyfully, as he took hold of her hands, and began to dance a little jig. "Finally!" he said. He started to sing. "Hogwarts, hoggy-woggy Hogwarts!"

They stopped after a few seconds though, as both suddenly realized what they were doing. They began to walk back up to the front entrance.

Helga kept on tripping on her robes. "God's feet!" she said. "Why do we have to wear these cursed things?"

"You'll get used to them," said Salazar. "You've gotten used to all the other noble-like things you've been doing lately. Look," he gestured to her feet. "You're taking small, ladylike steps."

Helga looked down at her feet. "I guess you're right," she said.

The two finally got to the door. Salazar ran ahead, and opened the door. "Milady," he said, gesturing inside.

"Thank you, good sir knight," she said, in an exaggerated highborn accent, as she swished past him, and into the entranceway.

Salazar followed her into the grand hall, where five tables were set up.

Rowena and Godric were seated at the high table, which was perpendicular to the other four. Above it was a huge banner that Rowena had made, with the four symbols from their bracelets upon it, connected by a huge H in the center.

The H stood for Hogwarts. Rowena had thought of it, of course. There was an H for Helga, a G for Godric, an R for herself, and an S for Salazar in the name. She told them that the initials stood for order, and the other letters stood for chaos, and that the school should be a good mixture of the two.

Salazar and Helga sat down quickly. 

"Sorry," he muttered. "I was out by the lake, lost track of time."

"It's fine," said Godric. "The ceiling looks great."

Salazar looked up at another one of his creations. Helga had complained that the hall was too dark and dreary. So he made up a complex spell to let the ceiling reflect the sky outside. Right now, it was blue, and streaks of red, pink and purple were filling it, and turning it indigo.

The four sat in silence, as it darkened, and the candles began to light themselves. When the first star appeared, the students would come.

Salazar looked back up at the sky, and as if on cue, Venus appeared.

A loud popping noise sounded, and the students were there, crowded in the back of the hall. 

"Welcome!" said Godric, standing up. "If you would all come to the front of the hall, the sorting will commence."

The students shuffled forward. They were forty of them, a hodgepodge of ages and backgrounds. The youngest was nine, the oldest fourteen. Twenty-five were turnlings, fourteen magic were from magical families, and one was a girl, born magic to a muggle family.

Rowena handed a list to Godric. He peered at it. 

"Will Abbot, Jonathan please step forward?"

A boy of about twelve came up to the table. "I'm him."

Godric gestured to Rowena. "Go on."

"Do you know how to read or write, John?"

"No."

"Godric," she said.

"Have you ever saved anything?" he said.

"I saved a cake that a church man gave to me, once."  
Godric shook his head. "Salazar."

"Do you want to be king?" Salazar said, knowing the answer already.

"No," said Jonathan, a little forcefully. "And have people try to kill me all the time?"

"Helga," he said with a gesture.

"Do you like to make things?" she said, kindly.

"Yes, I do," said Jonathan enthusiastically. "I made all sorts of thing for my mother and sister and brothers."  
Helga nodded. "All right. Will you please sit at that table?" she pointed to mid-right table. "You are in Hufflepuff house."

"Thank you, miss," he said, and went and sat down.

They continued through the rest of the thirty- nine. All went well, and the students were miraculously evenly divided, ten for each house. But, Salazar noticed, as the opening feast began, none his students were turnlings.

A/n- * humors, for those of you who don't know, are the subtances that people believed made up the body. There are four- blood, green bile, black bile, and phlegm. 


	7. The Threat

Salazar sat at his desk, drumming his fingers lazily, watching his breath pour out in a stream of smoke. The dungeons had seemed like the perfect place to give potion lessons- No smells could reach the main part of the castle, any corrosive potions that were dropped wouldn't go down to the floor below, since there wasn't a floor below, they were naturally cool, so the fires weren't stifling…And plus, they had planned out the classes in the heat of summer. The dungeons felt nice then, and Salazar had insisted that potion lessons take place there. Of course, he had foolishly forgotten that classes were to begin after the fall harvest, and end before the heat of summer crept in. 

_So much for teaching in comfort,_ Salazar thought, as his morning class, Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff's came in, shivering and wrapping their cloaks around them.

"Come on, set up your cauldrons, light your fires," he said, quickly standing up, in hopes of looking some what professional. "Once you do, it'll be warmer in here."

He gestured to the large black board behind him. "First and second levels, do the boil remover potion. Third, fourth, and fifth, do the silver polishing one. Six and seventh, the hospital wing needs more gangrene preventing potions, so get to it."

One of the seventh years raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Adelburg?"

She pointed. "It's not written on the board, sir."

"You should have memorized it by now," said Salazar, curtly.

There were some groans from the five older students seated in the back. Salazar glared, and continued. "First through fifth levels, be careful not to let your potions boil over. They are slightly corrosive, and they will damage your skin. Get to work. Six and seventh, see me for the shredded unicorn horn now."

The students crowded to his desk, and Salazar carefully measured out a spoonful of the silvery substance to each student.

"Careful, it's worth its weight in gold," he said, giving the last student, a particularly clumsy Hufflepuff, his measure.

Salazar then set up his own cauldron, to get ready to test a new potion he had thought up the night before. As he did, he marveled once again at Rowena's genius. They had given every student a test of their magical knowledge, and sorted them into seven levels. The seventh level would graduate that spring. 

This made it possible to give assignments to students based on their known ability, rather than their age, and made setting up lessons a breeze.

As Salazar started his fire, he heard a horrible scream. One of the first level's was on the ground, clutching his arm. Tears were streaming down the girls face, but she wasn't making a sound. 

Salazar rushed over. "What happened?" he demanded of the boy closest to him.

"I think she splashed some of the potion on her, sir."

Salazar paused, considering what to do. The students didn't know their way around the castle well enough to get to the hospital wing quickly. He needed to take her.

"Connelly!" he barked, to the back of the class.

"Yes sir?" said a tall seventh level, looking up from his cauldron.

"You take over the class. Make sure no one else injures them self. No one is allowed to leave, unless to go to the hospital wing."

"Yes sir," said the boy, looking around the classroom, daring the other students to ask to go to the privy.

Salazar ran out of the classroom, leading the girl by her unburned arm, and dashed up the stairs, to the second floor. He ran through the hallways, until he reached the wing. Helga was on duty, and, as the wing was otherwise empty, was tending an odd looking plant with thirteen spiky pedals.

"What happened?" she asked, concerned, as Salazar ran in.

"She splashed some boil removing potion on herself," he said, gesturing the girl to sit on the nearest bed.

Helga grabbed a pitcher of water and a rag, and bustled over. 

"Not much I can do, 'cept wash it out," she said, as she put the rag in the water, and wrung it out.

She gently patted the girl's wound. Tears streamed down her face faster, but she still didn't utter a sound.

"Salazar, grab me a bandage, please," she said, as she poured water carefully onto the girl's arm.

Salazar rushed over to the cabinet, and grabbed a roll of white linen. He tossed over to Helga, who skillfully caught it, and began dressing the wound.

"There," she said, patting the arm. "All better." She then turned to Salazar. "Can I have a word?"

"Miss Neilsen, head back to class- you remember the way back?"

The girl nodded, and left the wing.

"Yes?" said Salazar, once the girl was out of earshot.

"Did you leave the class alone?" said Helga.

"Well…yes."

"Salazar…"

"What was I supposed to do?" he retorted.

"Send her up with a class mate. You know that's what Godric would like us to do. Especially after that incident in Care of Magical Creatures."

"That happened because Godric was being a troll head. It was stupid of him to leave a bunch of Gryffindor's with a hippogriff. Bravery my foot, Marchbanks was a moron to ride him."

"And it's not stupid of you to leave your students with potions that can clearly hurt them?"

"I left Connelly in charge."

Helga gave him a look. "I'm going to have to tell the others about this."  
Salazar glowered, and then lightened up. "If you don't tell them about this, I won't tell them that you had a poisonous plant in the hospital wing."

Helga glanced towards the plant. "You wouldn't."

He grinned. "Oh, yes I would."

"I'll tell them about the time you accidentally gave your seventh levels a love potion to brew."

"I'll tell them about the time you almost forgot to tell your students to put earmuffs on when working with Mandrakes."

"Almost. The mouth was only halfway out of the dirt."

"Miss Higgs had a headache all day, I recall."

Helga stuck out her hand. "Truce."

"Deal," said Salazar, shaking it.

"Get back to class," said Helga, gently shoving him out the door.

*

When Salazar returned, the hourglass on his desk was almost spent. 

"You should be done by now," he said, picking up a stack of coins from his desk. "Now, after I'm done checking, do as it says on the board. Place your bottles on the desk before you leave."

He patrolled the rows, carefully examining the colour and texture of the lower level's potion, dropping a silver coin in each of the third, fourth, and fifth levels' cauldron, and smelling the upper levels' silvery green brew.

He went back to the silver polishing cauldrons, and pulled out the coins. To his amazement, none of the coins had changed at all.

"This-" he said, raising the tarnished coins in the air for all to see. "Is pathetic. Don't bother bottling it. All middle levels come here after the final bell, to try it again."

The bells rang, and the class rushed out, dropping bottles on his desk as they left.

Salazar sighed, as he turned one of the coins over in his hand. He walked over to the board, to erase the silver polishing potion recipe. It was obviously to hard, the afternoon class would have to do something else.

He paused for a second as his hand passed over one of the ingredients. _Two handfuls ground sea salt- _he thought._ Damn, it should be four. And it's the active ingredient. Damn it!_ He stopped erasing the recipe, and collapsed at his desk. He had humiliated half his class because he made a stupid mistake. The students would rejoice when they found out. Every time a student's potion didn't work, they could easily say that they thought he'd had the recipe wrong, and they tried to fix it.

_So much for teaching, _he thought, and flung the coin in his hand across the classroom. 

*

A few minutes after the last bell, a third level wandered in. Salazar wanted to tell him that he needn't be here, but something stopped him.

Five minutes later, the whole class was in the room. Salazar stood up and cleared his throat.

"Everyone, get to work!" he said, briefly.

The students talked among themselves as they grudgingly set up their cauldrons, and got their ingredients ready. 

Salazar sat tensely in his seat, just waiting for what he knew what was going to happen. And sure enough, 

"Sir, is there more sea salt in it then this morning?" asked a fourth level.

"Yes," he said, trying to keep himself from sighing.

"Why?"

He thought for a moment, before arriving at a solution. "Anyone who can tell me, is free to leave now, but must submit a cubit long essay on why there needs to be four handfuls of sea salt, rather then two."

The class plunged into silence, as they tried to think of whether or not they knew or not. After a few minutes, a fifth level packed up his things and left. The rest of the fifth levels, and most of the fourths left soon after. Within fifteen minutes, everyone was gone except for the two third levels in the class, a boy and a girl.

They looked at each other in self-pity. Suddenly, the boy spoke.

"This isn't fair."

Salazar looked up. "Pardon?"

"All the ones that left, they came from wizard families. Me and Alyce here, we don't know as much about magic as they do, since we came from muggles."

"You knew enough to get into the third level."

"That's cause I talked to a witch in the village for a bit before I came here," said Alyce.

"And I just guessed on the test," added the boy. "I didn't know none of that stuff."

"You could use your schoolbooks, and not to mention the library, to research the essay," said Salazar defensively.

"But they know it already! Some of the fifth years, they've had private tutors. And I know that Brian's father is an apothecary. Why should they get out of rebrewing?" said Alyce.

"You're in school to learn," said Salazar, getting tired of all this. "You need to learn the skills to let you survive in the magical world. And don't think that the more experienced students have it easier- they still have things to learn as well."

"We don't have any silver at home. So why should I learn this potion?" said the boy.

"It's the theory behind it, not the potion itself. That's why the other children aren't writing about how to make the potion- they're writing about why the ingredients work the way that they do. So that way, eventually, they'll be able to make their own potions. And, might I add, learn why they ones they make sometimes don't work. And they'll be able to fix it."

"So why to we have to brew it?" said Alyce rather loudly.

"Because," said Salazar through closed teeth. "You aren't at their level yet. You need to get more potions under your belt before you get into the complexity of it all. And I don't want to hear another word. Get to work."

Alyce and the boy glared, but started to brew their potions.

After another turn of the hourglass, they were done. Salazar dropped a coin into each of the cauldrons. He fished them out, and examined them.

"Alyce, very good. Bottle it up, and go. But yours-" he looked at the boy. "Is still tarnished. Did you forget something?"

The boy held up his closed hand. He slowly opened it to revel a fistful of sea salt.

"Put it in," commanded Salazar. "It's not too late."

The boy looked him steadily in the eye as he turned his hand over, and dropped it on the floor. He then walked out of the room.

"Get back here!" yelled Salazar. The boy didn't stop. Salazar ran after him. 

"Why did you do that?" said Salazar, trying to remain calm. "You could have just put that handful in, and be done."

"I didn't want to," said the boy, and spit on the ground at Salazar's feet.

Salazar then lost it. He grabbed the boy by both shoulders, and pulled him in until he was a foot away from his face.

"I have potions that can stop your heart in a second. I have ones that can collapse your lungs, ones that can make your limbs fall off. I don't suggest making me angry," said Salazar in a low voice.

The boy finally looked scared. He wrenched himself out of Salazar's grip, and ran up the stairs, as fast as he could.

Salazar watched him, breathing heavily with anger. His face slowly fell, as the realizations of his actions piled up on him. 

"Sir?" said a voice behind him.

He wheeled around. It was Alyce. "Yes?" he said, surprised.

"Can I go now?"

"Yes, yes," he said, still flustered. "Go."

He watched her climb the stairs, turned, and went slowly back into the classroom to clean up.

*

After dinner, Salazar was heading to his room, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around. Rowena was there, looking mad.

"Oh, good evening Rowena. What's the matter?"

Rowena gave him a look reminiscent of the one the boy had given him. "Good evening Salazar. I hear you threatened one of my students this morning."

Salazar raised his eyebrows. "Did I?"

"He says that he forced him and a Hufflepuff girl to stay after and brew a potion, while the rest of the class got off with an essay. And after he did his work, he tried to leave, and then you threatened him because he didn't do the potion right."

"That's not true," said Salazar. "He knew perfectly well what was wrong with his potion."

"So you did threaten him?" 

"No!" said Salazar quickly.

"Really," said Rowena. "Why would my student lie?"

"I don't know. To get attention, maybe? To get me in trouble?"

"Why would he do that? From what I've heard, the students tend to like your class."

Salazar knew he was in trouble. Rowena was a force to be reckoned with. He'd heard that she had once talked her way out of a burning, on Halloween, after she had turned the village priest into a pig, in broad daylight. He said nothing.

"I'll see you in the morning Salazar," she said finally, and turned to walk down the hall. "Don't think I don't know you're lying," she called over her shoulder.

"You're wrong for once, Rowena Ravenclaw," he called back, before continuing on his way to bed.

  



	8. The Offensice

When the sun finally rose the next morning, Salazar couldn't help feeling a bit triumphant. He had stayed up all night, but he had found a solution to his problem, and there was nothing that Rowena could do about it. In fact, she herself had set up herself by calling a Professor's meeting for before breakfast. It was perfect.

He walked confidently towards the professor's common room, and opened the door with a serious look on his face. Luckily, Godric and Helga were there, but no Rowena. That he got there before Rowena was a somewhat vital part of his plan. He could make it work if she had been there first, but it would be much more difficult.

"Good morning," Salazar said, trying not to smile.

"Good morning," said Helga cheerfully, while Godric gave a tired grunt.

Rowena came in. When her eyes met Salazar's they were full of vengeance. Salazar stared coldly back.

"I would like to start and end this as soon as possible," said Rowena briefly. Salazar smiled internally. Rowena had just pushed Godric and Helga slightly over to his side by not saying good morning. Manners and pleasantries had a large place in this world.

_It's time_ though Salazar. "As would we all, Rowena," quickly jumping in the gap. "And I most of all, because I know the reason why you called this meeting." Rowena looked at him surprised. _Oh, there's more to come,_ thought Salazar. _Just you wait._

"I acted rather poorly on my part yesterday," continued Salazar. "I treated a student unfairly and unjustly during the time when he and another girl had to finish their potion work, and I apologize to your student through you, Rowena.

Rowena looked confused. "I will tell him."

Before she could say anything else, Salazar started to talk again. "However, it came to my attention after the incident that we do not have a satisfactory and uniform discipline system in the school. Which is perhaps why you got mad at the way I handled the situation, Rowena. We have different ways of handling the situation when the students misbehave, and mine are perhaps a little more strict. Granted, yesterday I did step over the as of now non-existent boundaries, and I apologize again, this time to you all." He looked over to her with all the sincerity he could muster. Rowena was looking at him, stunned. She was trapped, and she knew it. _She can't do say anything without making herself look bad_ thought Salazar cheerfully.

"You are forgiven," she said at last, and he knew it was against every fiber of her being. The other two nodded in agreement.

"Now, if I may continue," he said, glancing over to Godric and Helga to get permission. "I have come up with a solution.  
"Detentions should be given in the case of a student misbehaving to the point of disrupting the class. As for anything that endangers the lives of other students or ourselves, that should be considered grounds for expulsion from the school."

"Isn't that a bit…extreme?" said Helga. "After all, we want to build up the reputation of our school."

"We're talking about the student's lives, Helga. I think expulsion would be necessary."

"I agree," said Godric, with a yawn.

"And what would these detentions consist of?" Rowena said, a glare in her eyes. "Redoing the days work?"

"No, of course not," said Salazar. "Redoing the work will not make the student behave.They would instead be of a physical nature. Say, cleaning out the privies, or helping to clean the hospital dressing. That way, the student would be giving something back to the school."

Helga and Godric made positive noises. Rowena sat there, hate building up in her eyes.

"But what happens when a student does something non-disruptive?" Rowena said. "For example, doing a potion incorrectly?"

"Thank you for asking, Rowena," Salazar said, jumping up and down in happiness on the inside. "Here's the beauty of my plan. We would instate a points system, and an inter-house competition tied in with it. Good behavior, and showing of knowledge would earn the student's house points. A right answer in class, 5 points. A hundred percent on an exam, 10 points. Or even an act of heroism-" Godric grinned "-it could earn 50, a hundred points. And at the end of the year, the house with the most points would have the end of the year feast in their honor- the hall decorated in their colours, and, of course, bragging rights for a year. So what does anyone think?"

"I like it," said Godric. 

"So do I. A little competition, a little threat of punishment, could make the students behave," said Helga.

"Not to mention pressure from their house mates. If you do something insanely stupid, and lose your house 50 points, they will make sure you behave the rest of the year," said Salazar, eagerly.

"What do you think, Rowena?" said Godric.

She was silent, staring at Salazar with the utmost hatred and disgust. "I think it's a good idea," she said at last.

_Check and mate,_ thought Salazar, triumphantly.

"How will we keep track of the points?" asked Helga.

"Simple," said Salazar. "_Accio Hufflepuff Point keeper,"_ he said, pulling out his wand.

Something that looked like a large hourglass flew into the room. Salazar caught it swiftly. "There are four more of these," said Salazar. "One to be placed in each of the dorms, and one in here that will be a replica of the current points leader, so we can see who's leading. They are each charmed to react to our, and only our voices. Watch." He put the hourglass down. "Five points to Hufflepuff!" The sand in the hourglass moved up to the 5 point line on the side. "Five points from Hufflepuff!" he said, and the sand went back to where it was.

"Of course, we have to trust that we all use our judgment when handing out points, and not be partial to any one house. But that goes without saying."

Godric and Helga nodded, and grinned. 

"Right! Shall we go to breakfast now?" said Godric. "The students should be arriving soon, and I want to announce the points system before the meal."

"Wait, Godric," said Rowena. "Shouldn't we all agree to the idea first?"

Godric looked surprised. "I was under the impression that we were all in agreement."

"Never make assumptions," said Rowena severely. 

"Are you opposed?"

Rowena looked uncomfortable. "No."

Godric turned to Helga. "Are you?"

"I think it's a brilliant idea."

"Well, that settles it! I'll announce it at breakfast then."

"Since when do you speak for us?" said Rowena.

Godric looked confused. "Well…It's just I've always really made all the major announcements…I'm just usually the one to speak, that's all. So I figured-"

"What did I say about making assumptions?

Godric looked uncomfortable. "Well, would you like to make the announcement?"

"I think Salazar should," Helga said, cutting in. "He did come up with the idea, it's only fair."

Godric turned towards Salazar. "Will you?"

"I think you should, Godric," said Salazar, eager to annoy Rowena. "You have the best speaking voice."

"I will then, if it's all right with you, Ms. Ravenclaw."

"It's fine, Master Gryffindor," Rowena said, curtly.

"I think we should go now," said Helga. "The students…"

The four got up, and walked to the hall silently. Godric announced the plan to the excited students. Each house seemed eager to go on with the day's lessons, for once.

Salazar walked around the hallway aimlessly after breakfast. They still had another half- hour until the morning classes began. He felt a hand grab his shoulder. He whirled around. It was Rowena.

"Yes?" he said, in all innocence.

"Don't yes me. I bet you thought that was terribly clever of you," she said, fire in her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Taking over the meeting like that. My meeting."

"The majority of the meeting was me presenting my idea, but I certainly didn't take over," Salazar said, remaining calm.

"Majority? Try the entire meeting, Salazar."

"Nonsense. We all talked and exchanged ideas."

It was often said the two of them were remarkably alike. Black hair, black eyes, tall, powerful, and stubborn. Godric had remarked on occasion that standing between them was like standing between two waterfalls. What was happening now was like watching two dammed rivers on the bursting point. Neither was yielding. Until-

"I won't let you get away with this," Rowena said, letting lose a flood. 

Salazar abandoned all innocence. "Ah, my dear Rowena, you already did. I presented my version of events first. And thanks to your behavior at the meeting, anything you say now will be like sour grapes to them. They'll think you're jealous for not coming up with the idea."

"I beg your pardon," Rowena said angrily.

"Come on, Rowena," Salazar said, exasperated. "You come up with everything. The level system. The sorting. The school crest. If you complain, it'll seem like you're mad for not being able to control the school."

"What?" Rowena said, disbelieving. "What have I ever done to make it seem like I want to control the school."

"The meeting. The argument over whom would announce my idea. If I were one of them, I'd think you were after a loftier position."

Rowena said nothing. The bell that signaled 5 minutes until class started rang.

"I think it's best if you got to class now," said Salazar. "Mustn't keep your students waiting."

"You and your bastard ways will burn," she said. She turned on her heel, and started off towards the charms room.

"Don't make assumptions!" Salazar called back, before going his own way.

He lay awake thinking that night, tired as he was from last night's all night vigil. He had never really thought of the devil, or of hell, or of heaven, or of god. The village priest had said that witches made contracts with the devil, which he knew was false. 

Or was it? Who was to say that wasn't how wizards had first gotten their powers? And passed it on, damning the generations after them?

He shook his head. The muggles were fools. Granted, it was out of ignorance, not stupidity that the believed this, but they were fools all the same.

He finally drifted of to sleep. He had a strange dream that night. He was running through the fens near his house. He didn't know from what, but the name Matthew was in his head, and it played over and over, changing each time, until it was the word _traitor._ And then the devil came in a flash of light, and beckoned for his soul, for that was the arranged dream. When he awoke, he remembered nothing, except the two words.

A/n- I think this chapter should defiantly be subtitled "Salazar creates corporate America", but it wouldn't fit with the The____ pattern I've got going. And I'm sorry to get all religious there, but it was a religious time.


End file.
